Writers 
I'd walked by night without a star,
Transferred wound that was too distant.
My dreams were slowly dying down, my courage was never strong.
And I wondered if light would find me again.
I beamed for the world, I broke in,
Hiding the tears I could never confide.
The way was long, the hill too high,
And each day had robbed my sleep.
One day, quietly, hope knocked at her door,
Quietly, not with a trumpet my way!
It said to her, “Wait, you're not finished with your story yet,
“You have a battle that you're supposed to be winning.”
Hope found me tired, Hope found me afraid,
But when others wandered it remained with me.
It taught me that storms never last too long,
And hearts can mend and make new mends.
I lifted my eyes and breathed once again,
I was able to see the little flowers growing through pain.
The past was a lesson, not where I must stay,
Slowly, darkness was dissipating.
Now when I stumble, I rise and believe,
For hope has reminded my heart how to breathe.
Yet I do know God's plan for us,
Hope, however, found me, and set my spirit free.